Our eyes meet. I see passion, pitter-pattering feet, and greying hair. You get off the bus anyway. Third time I’ve fallen for you this week.
It was a dance-off at first sight. He hopped, skipped and leap frogged into her heart. She pirouetted into his. Both went home, winners.
My windows are boarded, my doors locked. Sheltered in darkness from your love. Better to be hidden than looking over my shoulder.
Greeting cards. I left with half a dozen I’d send you one day or another. I remember you when I look at them, still unsent. And you, gone.
The birthday card was taped to her unlabeled mailbox inside the security door. He’d found her again. Damn, she’d have to move now.
The door clicks. Our sweaty hands entwine. The cabin rocks and climbs higher. Lights blink to rock and roll. You whisper. What did you say?